Monochrome
by Caramel Day
Summary: A somewhat dark take on the Wizarding World Post-Second War, and what happens to Harry in the peaceful times after it.


Monochrome

Years after the Second War, everything has changed. Instead of the bright colors the Wizarding World had grown accustomed to, the contrasting greens and reds and blues and silvers of curses flying throug the air, the World had grown a soft, monochromatic yellow. A peaceful yellow, bringing happiness and contentment to all. Or so it seemed…

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I understand some things in this fanfiction may offend some readers; everything here was meant in humor, not to put down any opinions. I apologize in advance if anyone was offended.

It was the summer of 2003, though it did not feel like summer. After so many years of being friends with Ron and Harry, Hermione had grown to equate summer with fun times of being at Grimmauld Place, of talking with her friends, of being around those she loved.

This summer, though, was quite the opposite. It started out harmlessly enough; Hermione and Ron, who had married a year after the War, didn't have much time to spend with Harry and Ginny, who had wasted no time and married the week after all the funerals were taken care of.

Later on, Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley admitted to themselves they should not have let their best friend grow so distant from them; but they were busy, and occupied with other things, and put it off to the first few years of wedded exclusiveness - or Hermione did, anyway, as we all know Ron has the emotional range of a teaspoon, and would therefore be angry, confused, and upset without Hermione to calm him down, and reassure him of Harry's loyal friendship with them.

But Harry wasn't their loyal friend. Not anymore. The lack of something to fight, something to drive towards, the lack of a goal messed up his pysche. Nearly his whole life, not counting his first 11 years (which Harry didn't), he had prepared himself to defeat Voldemort. He trained, he studied, he fought with all his strength to emerge from the Final Battle victorious.

And he did. The only problem was, he now had nothing to do. Nothing to work for. Nothing to live for.

Yes, he loved Ginny, his wife, and he had married her. But he did not feel enough for her to want to stay by her side, sitting at home, or helping her with the grocery shopping, or keeping house, or playing Quidditch the whole damn day.

He loved her, but he wanted a life of his own. Needed something separate from her. Harry had a job, mind, but it was a lifeless job, spent sitting at a desk all day deciding who got a raise and who got fired. The fancy job title of Head Auror had been given to him by Kingsley Shacklebot, Minister of Magic, after Voldemort had been destroyed.

While he appreciated the job, and the money he made thanks to it, he hated waking up every morning at 8 a.m. , going downstairs to see Ginny faithfully making him the same breakfast of bacon and eggs he had everyday, before Flooing to work. He would then do paperwork from 9 to 5, Floo home, and see Ginny faithfully making him dinner.

Harry was tired of the monotony, the pattern, the predictability his life had taken. He mised the surprises, the spontaneity, the way the War had kept him on his toes. He missed fighting, action, duelling, training…

So he decided to do something about it.

[.]

"Hermione! Would you get that bloody owl AWAY from the WINDOW so I could get some SLEEP?!"  
"Honestly, calm DOWN, Ronald. Go back to sleep, I'll get it."

Hermione shuffled out of bed, grumpily running a hand through her bushy brown hair as she wondered who would lack enough decency to send an owl at this hour, taking the letter from the owl and practically slamming the window shut on the poor bird.

All thoughts of annoyance and contempt left her, however, as her eyes skimmed the paper.

"RONALD!"

[.]

"So, let me get this straight. Harry's become a Dark Wizard, and you want us to go try to talk some sense into him?"

"Yes. I asked Ginevra to come, as well, but she said something about needing to be home to make breakfast…" Kingsley shrugged. "Odd, but she must have had some… reason… for not noticing Harry's plan to become a Dark Wizard."

"Plan?" Ron repeated. "How do you know he planned this beforehand? Maybe the bloke's just had too much to drink!"

"Er… He seems to have gathered up some followers. Former Death Eaters we haven't been able to catch… They've all rallied behind him. He's convinced them all with talk of bringing back how it was when Voldemort was alive…"

"He's gone crazy," Hermione said firmly. "Give us a team, we'll go get some sense into him."

[.]

As it turns out, Kingsley had already called some old D.A. members for assistance. Joining the couple were Neville and Luna Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Lavander Brown. Kingsley wanted to be certain they did not look like an army sent to take Harry down, but a diplomatic party to talk peacefully with him.

The small group had gotten Harry's coordinates from Ginny, who had unwittingly provided the information they needed by telling them how she had made him a new sweater, as Harry was going to the far North.

Now they were standing outside a fortress made of stone, colored, oddly enough, a deep orange.

[.]

"… Well, what are we supposed to do now? Knock on the door?"  
They had reached the front of the castle, standing around awkwardly at the giant door.  
"Loose security, if he hasn't noticec us yet," Lavander remarked. She hesitated, then pushed the door cautiously. It opened easily, and they walked in.

[.]

"It's about time you lot showed up."

Harry's appearance had changed, though not enough that they felt he was a new person. He had the same black, unruly hair, though it was now highlighted with red streaks. The glasses were gone, replaced with contacts. The lightning bolt scar was still the same, but the similarities ended there, and the differences began, some of which were noticed by the D.A.

For instance, Lavander, who had always prized herself on being good at Divination, noticed the change in his aura, from the joyful, bright yellow right after the War to the throbbing neon orange it was now.

Luna, who was observant and caught the littlest details, noticed the way his smile was slightly more smirk than smile; the way he now showed his teeth, the way his eyes glinted.

Hermione and Ron would have surely noticed these differences and more, if not for the fact that they were both thinking of what exactly to say to their best friend of how-many-years.

"Listen, Harry-" Hermione was interrupted by Ron.  
"Harry, mate, do you-"

"Please, let me speak first." Harry said cooly, in a voice more detached than they had ever heard it. "I have decided to become a Dark Wizard. I plan on bringing back the world the way it was before, and during, the Second War. The best times of our lives were preparing for the Battle. We grew closer, we grew smarter, we grew stronger! I want to replicate that time, and put us in control. It will be the Golden Age of Wizarding History, a time of prosperity and advancement! You can either join me, or try and go against me which will, I promise, go badly for you. Make your decision now."

"Harry, you're my best friend, but I can't let you terrorize the Wizarding World the way Voldemort did." Hermione spoke up, voicing the same thing on everyone's mind.

"Very well, then. I see there is no other way." Harry very unexpectedly bowed to them, flourishing his wand as he did so. Straightening back up, he said so softly, nobody heard, "Such a shame you won't live to see the world in color."

And color there was; as the battle commenced, Harry calling his Followers to aid him, varying shades of blues, reds, greens, and yellows flew across the room.

The Light put up a valiant battle; but, as everyone knows, when you mix Dark and Light colors together, the Darker shade always overpowers the Lighter one.

And the Dark had won; the monochromatic yellow was gone, washed out by the greens and reds and blues and greys of fighting, and pain, and war – but in Harry Potter's eyes, the darkest of colors and most dismal of shades were better than the sickly, tiringly tedious color that reminded him strongly of a Muggle school bus.

[.]

A seemingly long time ago…

"That's right, you freak," Dudley sneered. "This sort of thing was probably made for messed-up people like you to appreciate!"

Harry whimpered, goosebumps covering his arms, from the armchair directly in front of the television set, which was, at the moment, playing a marathon's worth of Barney episodes.

"She loves her yellow blankie in the day and night!"

Harry screamed.

[fin]

Author's Notes: Alright, that was my attempt at some serious humour. Please review, even just to tell me it was funny. Or just to tell me it wasn't. Seriously, reivew, please? Reviews make my life. And, yeah, the yellow being mentioned here was Baby Bop's blanket shade of yellow.


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